


Focus

by Dehmer



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, I had an idea and ran with it, Jack is a prince but trained to be a gaurd, Military, Royalty, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dehmer/pseuds/Dehmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Private' Jack Frost. Prince to the Royal Family. Highest in his class. Estranged son to the King. A living acquisition of a peace treaty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> I AM NOT UPDATING THIS.
> 
> This is something I wrote about half a year ago and left sitting. I'm posting it now because I have no reason not to. This has not been Beta'd by anyone (including myself...) so an mistakes which are RESPECTIVELY pointed out are welcome.
> 
> Other than that, Enjoy.
> 
> Now excuse me as I go write since I have FUCKING VIRAL MONO. FUCK YOU, UNIVERSE AND MY SHITTY LUCK!!!!!!
> 
> EDIT: Fixed somethings.

I could say I always expected it but I don't care to lie. It's not really in my nature to do so. So instead, I'll tell you a few truths.

First, I am a prince. Royalty but second youngest of five. Not really worth much to the line in the long run. It's a depressing thought, I know but that doesn't make it any less true. Besides, I accepted that fact long time ago. I was raised to.

Second truth; I was raised to protect, to kill. From birth I was told I only had one purpose. That purpose revolved around a man named Kozmotis Pitchiner, a man I haven't met. A man I blindly put my faith in. After all, the grunts aren't meant to question, only follow the orders given. Sounds lonely but I wasn't.

Third and final truth for now is a seemingly simple one. Through everything, I had my one best friend. He's quite a few years older - seven and a half - but I wouldn't change a thing. For some reason, he's been there since my birth. I never questioned it. I had a friend and that was all that had mattered to me at that time. Still not sure if I'm happy about that or not.

Well there you have it. Three basic truths out of the thousands of millions of lies - for now. There will be more, always more truths to be found. I just get to choose when they're seen.

* * *

 

The ground seems to fly beneath me as I run from rooftop to rooftop, dashing from my pursuers. I hear a small intake a breath behind me outside of the usual patterns and immediately drop down in a slide over the next roof to let the sharpened projectile sing over my head. I next use the edge of the roof to propel myself over the railing and down. The drop lasted barely an instant before I was rolling only to hop back up in a dead sprint. A few more steps in and I'm dropping into another roll, the shining blade of a cutlass hissing over the tip of my nose. I catch the wielder's legs mid roll and force them to fall. A swift moment and I'm hitting their neck in a non-lethal blow, sending them to a blissful rest. Boots crunch the ground on all sides of me. Slowly, I stand. A single touch and the sheathed weapons on my back hiss, a faint buzzing sound immediately following suit. With the perceived aura of a crazed predator, I take out the thin, pale-blue glowing blades. A stalemate stands before us all but not for long. A dark shadow as I move, I close in on the one in front of me. Only my blank icy-blue eyes and ceramic pale skin can be seen, prepared to take a life.

A sudden horn blares and my blade stops just a scant few inches before the person’s tanned throat, my buzzing weapons making the only sound between all of us. No one barely dares to breath. A single shift in his stance and he’s dead, everyone knows this. A beep sounds after a few moments of no one moving, my eyes drilling into wide and terrified brown ones.

“At ease, Jack,” one of my brothers’ voices rings out. “Training session is over. Weapons away now. All of you.”

Only at the command do I stand down, hopping back a few paces and securely putting away the glowing swords. A light click tells me they've locked in place, safe from accidentally harming others and being used against me. Slowly, cautiously, the other four follow my lead, bodies tense and wary as they move towards my left. I suppose they do kind of have a reason to be.

A cage- no, a room-like enclosure lowers from the ceiling, windows on all sides. Gently, it touches the ground but a rumbling echo runs through the soles of my feet despite the attempt of a soft landing. The four soldiers towards my left quickly regroup a few good paces away, grumbling among themselves. That takes on a swift change as soon as the door to the enclosure opens. The sides begins to lower, becoming a platform of sorts and connecting with the ground for easy walking, revealing a dark-skinned man. The soldiers are wise to snap into attention for them as they begin to walk off the platform.

“Lieutenant General Bunnymund, sir,” they salute. Bunnymund waves them down while heading straight for me. His bright marble-green eyes unflinchingly catch my own, carefully blank. The tall man stops a few small paces away.

“You're dismissed soldiers,” he calmly says, a hidden edge rounding the strict feeling of his words. “Private Jack, stay.” As told, the soldiers take leave and run for wherever as long as it isn't here. Bunnymund’s eyes watch from their corners while I simply listen. After a few more seconds, I speak up.

“They're gone, sir.” Only a nod is given in return before Bunnymund turns around to face me. A small smile soon cracks his facade.

“Let's talk in the Overhang, Jack.” Warmth fills the low timbre of his voice. “North isn't here and wont be able to make it. On the flipside, McSnoozie and Toothiana are. They're waiting for us above.”

“Yes, sir.” The response is polite, succinct. The smile on the Lieutenant General’s lips seem to dim a bit but he doesn't drop it until he's completely turned away. I feel like I should be remorseful but I can't find it in me.

“This way, Private.” His emotions are blocked off in a simple sentence. Perhaps that’s for the best.

Out of habit do I take note of his appearance despite the fact it would take a lot to forget Bunnymund. Dark midnight cocoa skin, natural black-grey-white peppered hair, a tall frame, and a small white go-tee. The dark military-standard uniform only accents the air of a foreign and intimidating exotic heritage surrounding him. I'm pretty sure it's features like these that have Bunnymund and Toothiana commonly mistaken as siblings rather than the lovers they truly are.

To many, the sudden movement of the overhang transfer pod would jar them and set many more off balance as well. It's the same as gaining your 'sea-legs'; it takes time. I'm very much used to it at this point. I practically grew up using this to and from the training exercises.

Just as it's going to lock back into place, both the Lieutenant General and I step from the transfer area and into the actual pod. We walk down the minimalist hall and into a large circular room, an unlit glass dome taking up much of the area in the center. It leaves enough room for three people to comfortably walk side-by-side around it. The dome itself could easily fit six people inside, around thirteen to fifteen feet wide though I don't know the exact dimensions. Everything outside of the dome and the current occupents of the room is a dull gray-blue color is some form. Small oblong windows go around the entire room at about my head height, going between the three doorways in five feet long pairs. On the ceiling above are two hatches, small doors for maintenance, repairs, and alternate escape routes should a situation arise.

My attention is stolen by a small ‘golden’ man nearly taking up my entire view. I jump and pull a hidden knife out but save myself in time when realizing who it is. I give a small smile and relax, voice still void of emotion as I say, “Sanderson, nice to see you buddy.”

Bright amber eyes crinkle as the wide smile stretches over Sanderson’s lips. He rapidly begins to sign and I just as quickly reply, hands swiftly moving. Sanderson is a stubby and portly man. Lightly tanned skin, mirthful amber eyes, and royal garb in varying shades of gold and silver. He looks regal - as he rightly should. He IS the first son after all. Sanderson McSnoozie Frost, he first of five. After him it's Nicolas ‘North’ Frost, the adoptive son E. Aster Bunnymund, myself, and then the youngest, Emma Overland Frost. Sanderson is to take the throne. North is under the tutelage of Ombric - the king’s wizard - as an apprentice. Bunnymund is in line to become chief of the military as well as an advisor to Sanderson. Emma...she's too young to decide yet but I have a feeling she'll be left to do as she pleases. I could never be happier if that were the case. From what she's told me, she has some grand plans.

Speaking of grand plans, I turn to Toothiana as my conversation with Sanderson comes to a polite end. She and Bunnymund are talking. About what, I don't know nor do I care. I trust them. If it was something I needed to know, they tell me and notify me of it immediately.

Noticing the new pair of eyes on them, Bunnymund and Toothiana stop talking and turn to us with calm and mildly humored eyes. Sanderson gives a small wave, grinning cheekily. On my own face is a minuscule smirk, eyes gently narrowed in returned mirth, my arms lazily crossed. Aster walks up to the dome and waves a hand over it. A perfectly colored, three dimensional hologram of the trial hovers above the glass. The smiles fall and we all gather around it, looking at the holographic video.

“From what I have witnessed.” Bunnymund starts, “Jack has shown great improvement. He has shown the ability to predict various outcomes and react accordingly within a second’s time. His hand-to-hand combat is above many and it is hivhly probable his speed is as good as it will ever get. I believe he is ready.” He nods to Toothiana.

The lady looks delicate, fragile as fine glass with her tanned skin, light lavender eyes, innocently exotic form of clothing, and curvaceous body. Her clothes are like draping sashes of exquisite cloth, all colored in dark blues, teals, bright greens, and newborn-sprout yellows. Her hair is a short, curly dark brown with auburn hints hiding in the silky tresses. She's tall for a woman, only a few inches or so below Bunnymund. Toothiana is the picturesque epitome of gentle womanhood. Only her bit of muscle and calculating eyes would ever give away her deadliness. When she speaks, her voice is light but inexplicably warm and smooth.

“I too have also witnessed great improvement but I believe he still has room for more. He may be great as he is now but there are some openings he has left in his bouts of over-confidence. I do believe he is not yet ready.” She nods to Sanderson. The portly man nods back and moves to an open area of the dome. He lightly taps it and a keyboard quickly materializes at the perfect height for him. His fingers fly across the keys as he rapidly types out his part.

‘Jack, you have become so great in your own right. No matter what, I cannot ignore this irrefutable fact. You have grown beyond any of our expectations and no one can refuse this. I have seen monumental growth and slow closings of your weaknesses. It is with the utmost respect not only as successor but also as your brother that I ask this question; do you believe yourself sufficiently prepared for this end game?’

Sanderson turns to look at me, grave and serious. I pause and take a moment to consider my answer. In any class I have always come out on top. I have the top marks in nearly everything. I've been sent away by so many teachers and superiors who have claimed they could teach me nothing more. But all that doesn't matter, does it? What matters is how confident I am in my own abilities. Just how sure of myself am I? Do I really think I'm ready. Am I really? My eyes stray over to Bunnymund. He believes I am perfectly prepared but… I look over at Toothiana and I'm instantly reminded that there is always something to improve on.

I finally look back at Sanderson, sure of my answer.

“I do not, Sanderson,” I solemnly conclude.


End file.
